by Tao Wong
“Please, Commander Katz. It is a small argument. We will all hold to the agreement.” Katherine slides in with a smile, gesturing to the others. “No one else has taken any action, and even Mr. Heindra has stopped his actions.”
“I’ll allow it. As Mr. Lee was provoking the incident to begin with,” Phil says then raises a single finger. “But no more. You leave your fights down there.”
I grunt and my agreement is echoed by everyone else. At Phil’s insistent wave, I move aside to find Roxley and Lana standing side by side, speaking softly.
“Was that what you were looking for?” I growl.
“Almost exactly,” Roxley says with a smile. “It would have worked better if you were able to fight, but your surprising eloquence will do. I take it you’ve been considering the matter?”
“Had four years to think about it,” I say.
“Interesting. We’ll have to speak about that, but for now, we need to capitalize on your little display.” Lana steps aside swiftly, disappearing into the crowd. Leaving me and Roxley alone.
For a time, we stand in awkward silence before I finally muster enough courage to deal with this. “Look, Roxley. About us. It wasn’t a mistake, but it wasn’t smart. There’s…” I hesitate before pushing on. “Something there. It might be more, but after this… if this works…”
“You intend to leave. And my duties require me to stay.” His lips twist slightly as he sighs. “Oh, John. Did you ever, perhaps, look into Truinnar relationship norms?”
“No…”
“Oooh… I do think tall, dark, and elfy is talking about paired bonds.”
“Then be assured that I understand the context. For us, there is a distinct different between those who are chosen from duty and those from desire. Neither holds greater value, but they do differ significantly in what is expected of one another.”
“Desire?” I cough.
Roxley snorts. “You really are adorable at times. But we can speak of this later. Dinner, after the vote?”
“Uh…” I pause, realizing numerous eyes are fixed on us. I glower at the others before deciding to ignore them all. As difficult as I find our relationship, with all its political, social, and personal implications, it’s none of their business. “If I don’t have to Portal down and take a few cities, sure.”
Roxley laughs lightly and walks off to tackle another figure while I find myself standing alone for a few seconds. I turn when I feel a glare behind my back and find myself smiling at Asgauver as the werehippo glares at me.
Three hours to the vote.
Rob finds me soon after, a slight smile on his face. The ex-Secretary of State looks relaxed, in his element out here. As much as he might act as if he’s not a seasoned politician, the man knows how to maneuver among the throng with ease. It’s something I’ve had to learn, mostly by watching people who are better than me, but it’ll never be something I’m comfortable with. I sometimes wonder if I’m holding myself back and that’s why I’m not improving as much—or as fast—as I should.
“Evening,” I greet the man.
“Is it, really?” Rob says, looking out into the pitch blackness.
“Pretty sure it is somewhere,” I say.
Rob chuckles and tilts his head toward the robot server that comes over, carrying a pair of glasses. He picks them up and hands one to me. “Well then, if that’s the case. Cheers!”
I snort but down the drink. It’s something a little bitter, a little strong that burns going down the throat and burns even hotter when it hits my stomach. My eyes widen slightly even as I’m notified that I’ve resisted a poisoning effect. Bah! Once again, my innate resistances make a mess of things including blocking alcohol’s effects on me.
“Nice. I’ll have to keep this in mind,” I say while looking around for Ali.
I spot the damn Spirit a short distance away with a glass in hand, regaling a group of Galactics with a story. I decide not to lip-read or listen in. It’s rather embarrassing listening to the damn Spirit talk about our adventures, especially since he seems to feel that our “regular” adventures are nowhere near exciting enough and thus carefully shapes the truth.
“So we never talked afterward. But are you okay with this?” I say, gesturing toward Bipasha.
“Couldn’t really ask for more. We’re not what we were,” Rob says. “Vice-chair is more than sufficient. Surprised the Chinese let it go actually.”
“As am I,” I say. “But Bipasha says they’d rather have their tenterhooks directly in her.”
Rob can only shrug before he points at where Asgauver stands. “Heard what you said. I have to admit, I was impressed. Reminded me a little of a little piece of paper dear to my heart. All men being equal and all.”
I nod, deciding not to comment. The ideals his country was built upon, which were consciously chosen, are hard to argue against. Yet those ideals, those beliefs—like so many other things—are easy to betray in application.
“We do what we can,” I say.
Rob flashes me a half smile before offering me a salute with his glass as he wanders off. Once again, I think it’s a pity the man doesn’t have the votes to win this. But needs must.
Chapter 22
For all the drama leading up to it, for all the nail-biting tension and the last-minute discussions in political realities, the vote itself is entirely banal. When the time comes, even those who have chosen not to come up to the station may cast their vote from the safety of their cities. Our presence on the station is a matter of convenience and preference, a desire to meet and mingle, rather than need. Even the proxies here are mostly proxies for networking, not voting.
During the vote, Lana’s eyes defocus as she reads through the notification, then they slightly tighten as she makes her decision. It happens quickly. By the time I look at Roxley and the Truinnar, most of them are done too. It’s mostly the humans who take their time, reading through the notification in detail. Perhaps it’s our concerns about things like predatory contracts and terms and conditions or just a general distrust of the System. In either case, results show up on the simple bar charts and globe Phil has taken the time to set up.
“Looks like the Fist really did betray us,” I say softly. Damn them. They’d managed to take a couple more close-by settlements in the interim.
“They’re not pulling back either, boy-o. I’ll keep an ear out, but I don’t see them backing down. You might have to miss your dinner.”
I’m amused to see that Asgauver, for a brief moment, actually has the highest number of votes—before the votes for Bipasha arrive. Immediately, her bar eclipses Asgauver’s and even the Movana’s.
“Do we have enough?” I ask, turning to regard the globe as lights shift and turn on. “And any variations?”
“Nothing yet,” Lana says as she tilts her head. I’m not surprised to see her doing so, probably listening to her AI and getting an update.
Another jump as a slew of others finish their voting and Bipasha’s numbers push past fifty percent.
“Come on…”
I shift from foot to foot as the bars creep upward. I’m just grateful the vote is done by the System. Even then, seconds seem like hours as I wait. Around us, whispered conversations of Galactics and humans dominate, while the low hiss of the ventilation system underlines every word. In one corner, Bipasha stands, her lips slightly parted, anticipation radiating from every inch of her body. Beside her, the Chinese settlement owners wait, a sardonic, imperious look on Fang Lei’s face. I blink and realize the deeper shadows in one corner of the room contains a friendly assassin.
I draw a deep breath, and by the time I exhale, the numbers update.
“That’s it?” Katherine says beside me.
I understand her feelings. Where’s the swell of music from the orchestra, the drum roll? The crash of thunder or the cheers? Instead, there’s just a floating bar chart and a single notification.
Congratulations to Earth (Planet XVI.1928813) for voting Bipasha Chowdur
y as your representative to the Galactic Council.
Your representative (or a designated representative) has 94 Standard Days to arrive and take her seat.
Additional details and benefits will be provided when you have successfully completed this mandatory quest.
“That’s it,” I say. Eighty point one percent. Thousand hells the vote had been close.
I look around, spotting the few who voted against Bipasha. The Movana look unhappy and are moving toward Phil as a group with haste, shoulders hunched and eyes gliding over the groups as they looked to leave. The Fist are standing in their own corner, focused on perusing notifications of their own. Probably from the on-going fight below. A part of me wants to head down there immediately. Now that things have played out, Ali is already feeding me notifications about the state of affairs on Earth. How the Movana have pulled back their forces while requesting a cease-fire and how the Fist are still fighting. Since I’m not the only Master Class in play, I should be able to go down, right?
“Just wait a little bit,” Ali says, obviously reading my mind. “I’m pretty sure Bipasha would be annoyed if you left during her victory lap.”
I find myself grunting in acknowledgement. The Bangladeshi woman is radiant, all smiles and glowing with the light of victory as other settlement owners gather to offer their congratulations and suck up a little. I find it amusing—until Rob lets loose an exclamation of surprise and stomps over.
“What the hell is this?” Rob is waving one balled fist as he stalks nearer to the crowd.
Fang Lei moves to block him off, his smirk growing.
“Boy-o…”
Your Planetary Governor: Bipasha Chowdury
Your Planetary Deputy Governor: Fang Lei
Your Planetary Vice-Deputy Governor: Rob Markey
…
“That’s not…” I exhale, understanding why Rob is angry.
It’s not what we agreed on. Not what she told us she had agreed on. And I get why Fang Lei has been smirking, so confident. The threads make sense now, the choices they made. In the corner of my eye, new notifications appear as Bipasha’s reputation takes a hit. Contracts set up between us flicker warning signs as her reputation plunges.
“Why?” Rob snarls over Fang Lei’s shoulder.
“Because you people are unworthy dogs,” Fang Lei says.
My eyes narrow at something in his voice… I look toward Bipasha, but I’m too slow. Phil, sensing something is wrong, is turning too, but he’s too slow as well.
The first attack comes from a hand that lands ever so lightly on her arm. It bypasses her inactive shield because Bipasha doesn’t expect the attack. The twist and rip warps her skin and the bone in her arm before it detaches, removing her rings of protection. Behind her, the other Chinese settlement owners attack.
Daggers appear in hands and dart toward Bipasha’s body, wreathed in flame and lightning, the blue glow of Mana, and the twisting winds of compressed air. They impact against her secondary defenses, the other enchantments they didn’t manage to strip out, the weaves of her jumpsuit as they harden. It’s not enough. Her defenses fall one after the other even as spells and Skills trigger. Blades plunge into her lithe body, which is attempting to escape, tearing holes in her clothing and flesh. From the daggers, energy flows, green darkness spreading from her wounds.
I see her choke as another attack, this one from a newly generated metal gauntlet, smashes into her face, crushing her cheek and unleashing pure energy into her skull. Even as these attacks pile on, the crowd reacts. Bodyguards moving to protect her are outnumbered and blocked by other members of the Chinese congregation, Bipasha’s men falling under the surprise attacks. Phil takes a more direct route, tapping into his control of the station and banishing settlement owners. But it takes time to locate and target individuals, and each moment sees another attack. The Soul Shield I throw up and my Two are One Skills do little to slow the damage, even as a quantum lock hinders Phil’s ability to remove the assailants.
The Indian woman falls, poison, chaos magic, weaponized nanites, and more spreading through her body. By the time I Blink Step to her, a Major Healing spell already forming, it’s too late. The pain from the shared Skill is gone, Two are One deactivating as its target disappears. Healing magic cast on her body flashes and disappears as it finds nothing to grasp. Her brain is fried, her nerves torn apart, her body poisoned.
At first silence dominates the room—no screams—then there’s more than a little cursing. And laughter from the Fist. Death comes in a blink and it staggers us survivors. The Chinese bodyguards fall backward, but Bipasha’s don’t. The lock disappears. With a heavy sigh, Phil banishes the remainder of the guards. When he reaches Fang Lei and his pair of bodyguards, he frowns.
“It’s done,” Fang Lei says, raising his voice to project. There’s a timbre to it, a commanding presence that actually makes people listen. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but we didn’t want her to change her mind.”
“You bastard…” Rob snarls, his fist clenching.
“Now, now. You’ve got what you wanted. Deputy Governor,” Fang Lei says with that irritating smirk.
“You double-dealing scumbag,” Rob says. “If you think…”
I step up and clap my hand on Rob’s shoulder. The American halts, meeting my eyes and seeing the warning in them. He growls again, but I ignore it as I turn to Fang Lei.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I say softly. “In five years, you are up for re-election. And you just lost all of the Indian continent’s votes at the very least.”
“Five years is a very long time,” Fang Lei says. “Much can change in that time. Much can be changed. Those who stand against us will learn better.”
My eyes widen at the implications. At what he is suggesting he is willing to do. For the first time, a pit of cold fear opens up in my stomach as I realize who I’ve inadvertently gotten into bed with. I step forward, my hands clenching, but a look from Phil makes me stop, the warning clear. As much as I might dislike Fang Lei, Phil has already warned me once. I doubt he’ll warn me again. Before I can say anything else, a blinding light flashes out from around Fang Lei. My eyes slam shut too late as our sight is overloaded on purpose.
“You dare!” Fang Lei’s voice rises in a shout. Dull clinks and clanks resound, the noise all too familiar, as is the low hiss of smoke being released from an obfuscation grenade. “Commander, do your job!”
“I can’t see,” Phil growls, his voice fading slightly as I sense him backing off. Mana flows erupt from around his body as he piles on defensive measures.
All around me, people are reacting to being blinded. My Mana Sense is flaring like crazy as people trigger even more Shielding Skills to protect themselves from a potential attack. But from what I can hear, what I sense, the attacks are all concentrated on one location. My sight comes back relatively fast, but the smoke that permeates the room obscures most everything.
Most. I see Phil pushed back by Emven, who has launched himself at the Commander. I try to Blink Step to Phil’s aid and feel my body lurch forward only a few feet as a Skill degrades mine. I jerk in surprise, turning in time to see a fist come flying toward my face. The fist is as large as my body, and as it impacts, I’m thrown backward. I groan, pushing myself up as my head swims slightly.
You are Dazed!
6 Seconds Remaining
“Why…?” I ask, not understanding why the Fist would act now. This doesn’t have anything to do with them…
“For many reasons,” Asgauver says as he throws a hook that I barely weave under. Another punch and another as I duck, the hippo refusing to stop talking as he does so. “The new Governor seems to be quite open to negotiation. But mostly because you threatened us.”
Spells and Skills flare as I call forth my sword and the other blades. A new notification tells me that Asgauver has learned his lesson, locking me in place with a Skill. Frustration pushes at the edges of my self-control when I see that notice. I’m
still not sure who is fighting Fang Lei, how Phil is doing, or where the rest of my team is. I don’t have time for this, but I’m not exactly given a choice.
Blade against fist. But I’m eating more punches this time, unable to move as smoothly as I’d like, as the hippo hems me in on the observatory. I snarl, watching as the integrity of my Soul Shield and the Shield from the ring drops, smashed away by the overpowered bruiser. His attacks are simplistic, focused on adding to the damage quotient. But damn is it effective.
Another punch, this one shattering my Shields and throwing me into a pile of screaming Galactics. Their soft bodies soak up my painful landing, though I get shocked by a few reflexive Skill uses. I roll aside before the giant table that Asgauver throws hits, using the smoke, dust, and confusion to buy myself a few precious seconds.
I can’t win this. Not like this. But the good news is, I don’t need to.
“Point into Penetration. Another into Vanguard,” I snarl.
Then, remembering where I am, I trigger the Eye of the Storm. I have no idea where my friends are or who they’re fighting—if they’re fighting—but if they are, I’d best make their lives easier. At the same time, I let my Aura loose, going all in as my body shudders slightly from the Class Skill changes taking effect.
“There you are!” Asgauver says as he stalks forward. His hands glow again, built up charge filling those meaty bulldozers.
“Yes. Here I am.”
Idiot takes the time to talk and let me speak, so I take the time to cast Haste then trigger Vanguard. Everything slows down even further as the spell and Skill boosts my attributes and speed. Then I move.
I’m beside Asgauver before he realizes it, my sword cutting upward into the gap between his arm and chest, right into his armpit. The four other swords follow, spongey flesh that is inordinately hardened by Skills tearing apart under the assault. But I’m moving, not stopping as I pile cuts and slashes across his body. The hippo howls, slamming his hands together and sending a shockwave that pushes me, the smoke, and everyone else back.
